Resonance
by Alex Voy
Summary: Some missing scenes from "Imperfection". Torres's version of the Janeway vignette.


Title: Resonance  
  
Author: Alex Voy  
  
Summary: Some missing scenes from "Imperfection" early in season seven, which tell a story of their own. This is Torres's version of the Janeway vignette.  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns the characters and Voyager. No infringement of copyright is intended.  
  
Acknowledgements: My thanks to Kelly for beta-reading this story -- any remaining mistakes are mine alone.  
  
**********************  
  
Resonance  
  
By Alex Voy  
  
Captain Janeway doesn't take kindly to failure. It makes her angry, and I don't mind admitting that an angry Janeway still scares the hell out of me. She can give you a look that'll turn your internal organs to something resembling the freezing slush Neelix occasionally serves as ice cream.  
  
But even her anger is better than the other reaction she sometimes has when one of us fails her. When she gives that look of hurt disappointment, it makes you feel about two centimetres tall, and you want to crawl back under the nearest stone.  
  
Right now, she's alternating between the two states. Even though she's seen plenty of failure in her crew, she doesn't often experience it herself. She believed that any problem could be solved -- that if you're just willing to do what it takes, at whatever personal cost, you can fix anything.  
  
Right now, she's discovering that's not always true. It's a painful process for her.  
  
Seven of Nine is dying. The cortical node that controls her Borg implants is failing. And there's nothing the Captain can do about it.  
  
Yesterday, the Captain damn near got herself and Tuvok killed by scavengers when she took a shuttle into a debris field to get a replacement node from a dead Borg. It was a wasted effort, anyway. The new node didn't work.  
  
Today, I thought I'd try an idea of my own; a notion I had about reconfiguring Seven's regeneration alcove. I was alone in cargo bay two, searching among Seven's Borg tools, when the Captain came in. She didn't see me. I started to move forward to speak to her, when something about the way she was standing made me pause.  
  
She was silhouetted in front of the alcove, unmoving: just staring, as though she could force a solution from it with sheer will power. Her face reflected the green glow of Borg illumination, and I realised I was catching a rare glimpse of the woman inside that tough captain's exterior she puts on with her uniform. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out and touched the edge of the alcove. Her fingers moved slowly over the smooth surface, almost as though she were caressing the alien technology.  
  
There have been rumours, of course; they started almost as soon as Seven came on board. Shipboard gossip is fast and often wildly imaginative. Personally, I take most of it with a pinch of Talaxian spice powder. It's just the over-active imaginations of a lot of people confined together in unnatural circumstances. When real life becomes too routine, they start to invent some wild ideas, based on the vaguest suspicions. It's not surprising that some of the more persistent rumours have concerned the Captain and her pet Borg.  
  
I thought the whole idea was ludicrous. To be honest, I've never understood what the Captain saw in Seven of Nine in the first place. Why she kept trying to instill basic humanity into that cybernetic ice queen, I don't know. But she must have seen something that the rest of us had missed, because I have to admit that Seven has become a useful addition to the crew. She's not quite so insufferably arrogant these days, but she's still a pretty cold fish in my book, and the absolute antithesis of the Captain. It's ironic that she's suddenly becoming a lot more human now that she's about to die.  
  
But when I saw the anguish on Captain Janeway's face as she stood in that Borg alcove.well, just for a moment I wondered if maybe there could be something in those rumours after all. I stepped backwards, deeper into the shadows, unwilling to intrude into such private grief. Unable to take my eyes off the Captain, I brushed against one of the cargo containers, knocking off the tool I had been looking for. The Captain whirled round to face me.  
  
"Who's there?" Her voice was harsh over the rhythmic hum of the Borg technology.  
  
Reluctantly, I stepped forward into the green light.  
  
"It's me, Captain. I was just looking for this." I picked up the Borg probe off the floor.  
  
"What are you doing in here?" Her voice was still hard, and I could hear the suppressed anger beneath.  
  
"I was trying to adjust Seven's alcove to compensate for the intermittent fault in her cortical node," I replied. "I thought it might help her if she was able to regenerate properly."  
  
She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes glittering almost black in the green glow.  
  
"Did you succeed?"  
  
"Not yet," I admitted.  
  
"You won't," she said with uncharacteristic bitterness, and turned back to stare at the alcove. "Seven has already tried, and failed, to compensate for the fault in her node."  
  
"It's worth a try, Captain. She might have missed something."  
  
"Seven doesn't 'miss' anything, Lieutenant."  
  
"She's sick. Her implants aren't working properly, and I don't think we can rely on her 'Borg perfection' any longer."  
  
"You never did like Seven, did you?" she said.  
  
"I've always admired her technical expertise," I said. "But I'll admit her manner took some getting used to."  
  
"I'd have thought you, of all people, would sympathise with her position. I seem to remember some problems with your own conduct when you first joined this ship."  
  
"I know. You helped us both adapt to our circumstances here on Voyager. I don't forget that."  
  
"Maybe you resent her, because I spend so much time with her now."  
  
"I don't resent her, Captain."  
  
"Then why aren't you doing more to try and help her? You've offered no suggestions at the briefings."  
  
"I'm here, aren't I?" I said, stung by her unfairness.  
  
She stared at me, her eyes dark and dangerous in the reflected pallor of her face, then turned abruptly away and strode out.  
  
I knew her anger wasn't really meant for me, so I tried not to take it to heart. I still felt bad about it, though, because it showed just how much Seven's illness was affecting her. The Captain never really allowed anyone other than Chakotay to get close to her on the ship, but they seem to have drifted apart over the past couple of years. If her bond with Seven made her happy, that was okay with me. A happy Captain makes for a happy ship. Anyway, I think she deserves a little happiness.  
  
I wasn't able to fix that damned alcove. I was just packing up my equipment when the doors opened again, and Seven walked in.  
  
"B'Elanna Torres," she said. Her face was pale, with areas of inflamed human tissue surrounding the Borg implants that had emerged on her skin. She looked a long way from the elegant cyborg we had all come to know, if not to love. I felt a sudden surge of pity, and realised with amazement that I preferred the Borg arrogance to this more human side of Seven. She was facing her imminent demise with bravery and composure, but I longed for the old Seven, who would have told me my pity was "irrelevant."  
  
"You have been attempting to adjust my alcove to the fluctuating resonance of my cortical node," she said with her usual lack of emotion. "And you have failed."  
  
"Yeah, well, anything's worth a try in this situation."  
  
Seven turned to face me. "I disagree. I don't understand the human need to attempt illogical and futile procedures to prevent the inevitable."  
  
"Death is inevitable for us all, Seven, but it doesn't mean we have to accept it before our time."  
  
"This is my time," she said quietly.  
  
"How do you know that?" Now I was getting angry, irritated by this newly- compliant Seven who was suddenly so willing to surrender to fate.  
  
"I am Borg. I cannot function without my cortical node." The words may have been a bold attempt at maintaining the attitude of the old Seven, but the tone told a different story.  
  
"Seven, I'm sorry. I just want to help you."  
  
She looked down at me, and for once, I wasn't irritated by her superior height.  
  
"No one can help me. My cortical node will fail, and I will die. It's inevitable. Why will you and Captain Janeway not accept these facts?"  
  
"I guess because it's just not in our natures to give up."  
  
Her expression gave nothing away, but in the short silence, I could almost hear the nanoprobes scurrying around as she processed the information.  
  
"Captain Janeway is angry because she's unable to find a replacement node," she said at last.  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Anger is irrelevant. It serves no purpose in this circumstance."  
  
"Oh, I think it does, Seven. She's angry with herself because she feels she's let you down, both as a Captain and as a friend. She's not used to feeling helpless."  
  
Seven looked at me in amazement.  
  
"Captain Janeway has not failed me. On the contrary, it is I who have failed to achieve her expectations. My function on this ship has been to bring Borg expertise to assist her efforts to return to the Alpha Quadrant. Clearly, I am no longer capable of fulfilling that function."  
  
"Seven, you brought more than Borg expertise to Voyager."  
  
"Explain."  
  
"I think that's something you should ask the Captain."  
  
She stared at me for a long moment, then said: "I must return to astrometrics."  
  
Later, I was running diagnostics on the upper level of engineering, when I saw Captain Janeway through the transparent floor below. She spoke briefly to Vorik, who indicated in my direction. I waited for her to appear on the personal elevator at my level.  
  
The Captain no longer seemed to be angry. Instead, she had a bleak calmness that I found almost as disturbing.  
  
"I owe you an apology, B'Elanna," she said.  
  
Now I really knew she was upset. I don't ever remember her apologising to one of her crew before.  
  
"Captain, it's all right."  
  
"No, it's not all right. When something goes wrong, a captain shouldn't take it out on her crew. Or her friends. I'm sorry for what I said in the cargo bay.  
  
"What's happening to Seven is affecting us all," I said. "You're closer to her than anyone else, and you have every right to be upset."  
  
She looked at me sharply; then her lips twisted in a faint, humourless smile.  
  
"I'm not as isolated as you might think. I know what they're saying about the captain and her pet Borg."  
  
Her use of the very words I had thought earlier caught me by surprise. I flushed and instinctively dropped my gaze.  
  
"Et tu, B'Elanna?"  
  
"It really doesn't bother me." I looked into her eyes, intensely blue in the glow of the warp core.  
  
She studied me for a moment, then asked mildly: "What doesn't bother you? The possibility that your captain may be involved in an improper relationship with a subordinate, or that Seven might be the object of that relationship?"  
  
"Neither one." I shrugged. "We're a long way from Starfleet protocols and home. Your private life is your own affair."  
  
"An unfortunate choice of words," she said with a slight smile. "And also unfortunately, not true. I know better than anyone on this ship that I'm under constant scrutiny. Nobody's private life is of more interest to everyone else than my own."  
  
"They care about you, Captain.Yes, there are rumours, but they don't mean anything. The crew just want to see you happy."  
  
"Well, that's not very likely right now, is it?" she said.  
  
"I know that Seven and I haven't always seen eye to eye," I said. "But I am sorry for what's happening to her. If there was anything I could do to help ." I trailed off, aware of how trite the words sounded.  
  
The Captain didn't seem to notice.  
  
"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say.  
  
A slight spasm crossed her face. "So am I, B'Elanna." There was a pause before she repeated: "So am I."  
  
The constant background droning of the warp core sounded loud in the ensuing silence. I expected her to leave, but she seemed reluctant to move. She was gazing into the swirling blue of the core, as though she might somehow find within its depths, the answer she was so desperately seeking.  
  
I felt a sudden, irresistible urge to reach out and touch her, to put my hand on her arm in some small gesture of comfort, the way she would have done if our situations had been reversed. I raised my hand towards her.  
  
"Please don't." Her voice was so low, the words were almost inaudible. My throat suddenly felt as if I'd swallowed one of Neelix's boiled Eskarian eggs. There was another long silence before she finally looked away from the core.  
  
For an instant, I saw the pain and fear in her eyes. It was just a momentary flash of vulnerability before she moved her head sharply, and the aura of command surrounded her once more. It was quite deliberate: a conscious effort of will that was normally completely automatic. But at this abnormal time, for once, I had seen just how much that effort had cost her.  
  
Whatever the truth of her relationship with Seven, I understood for the first time the price she must have paid for these years in the Delta Quadrant. We had taken her for granted, almost expecting miracles from her. I felt ashamed of the times I had clashed with her and added to her problems. I desperately wished I could do something to repay just a small part of what I owed her.  
  
But there was nothing I could do. She had rejected my offer of comfort even as she allowed me to see her despair. Or maybe she hadn't allowed it. Maybe she had just felt defeated; the weight of the past six years finally proving too much, even for her.  
  
The thought hit me like a kick to the stomach. We had come to think of her as invincible, immortal, always there with a solution for any crisis. It hadn't occurred to us that the effects might be cumulative, that there may come a time when she can simply no longer go on. Losing Seven might just bring that time a whole lot closer, I realised.  
  
"Do you know what Seven is doing at this moment?" the Captain asked quietly, tapping the computer console on the control panel. A view of a desert landscape came up on the screen. It changed almost immediately to a stand of giant redwood trees. "She's trying to access memories of Earth from the time before she was assimilated by the Borg." The image changed to jagged, snow-covered mountains. "I doubt she'll find anything relevant in the computer data base."  
  
"Maybe she doesn't need to," I said.  
  
"What do you mean?" The Captain looked up from the screen.  
  
"You could tell her about Earth much better than these impersonal images."  
  
"I know very little about her childhood, before she was on board the Raven with her parents. What could I possibly tell her?"  
  
The Great Wall of China came up on the screen.  
  
"Why not tell her about your own experiences at that age: about your family, your home, where you grew up?"  
  
"Yes, I could do that," she said. "If I can't do anything else to help, I can at least talk to her, spend some time with her."  
  
What little time remained. The words were unspoken, but they were there just the same.  
  
"Thank you, B'Elanna." She touched my upper arm in unconscious imitation of the gesture she had refused from me only minutes before.  
  
I watched her move away towards the lift.  
  
"Captain!" I called to her, as she was about to step onto the platform. She turned back towards me. "About those rumours."  
  
"I thought they didn't bother you."  
  
"They don't. It's not knowing that bothers me."  
  
She shook her head with a slight smile. I grinned at her while the elevator took her down and out of sight into main engineering.  
  
As I reached for the control panel to turn off the screen, the image changed to a golden sunset over the Grand Canyon  
  
END  
  
NB: For anyone who hasn't seen "Imperfection", Seven was back the following week, in perfect health. And for once, it wasn't one of the usual suspects who found the solution to the failing cortical node. 


End file.
